Homecoming (Sweet Hearts of Sweet Creek Book 1) Read online

  She climbed off the tractor, Mark’s hat falling over her face, and she pulled it off, lifting her heavy braid from the back of her neck. It had been a while since she had done any work outside, had sweated, had wiped hay dust from her eyes. It sure felt a lot better than aching feet from high heels and a burning throat from cigarette smoke. Mark waited by the baler for her, and she couldn’t help but comment.

  “You still trying to prove your point?” she asked dryly as he fell into step with her.

  “What point?”

  “When we came to the hospital, you said that your mother raised you to be a gentleman and you were going to prove it to me.”

  “I’d forgotten about that.” He flashed her a grin as he wiped off his face with his bandana. “So you think this is part of my campaign?”

  “Isn’t it?”

  Mark paused by an overhanging tree and hung his bandana in it to dry and smiled. “So am I doing it?”

  “What?”

  “Proving my point to you?”

  “Do you always answer questions with a question?” she countered with a sly grin, remembering their first conversation.

  Mark laughed.

  Funny that the sound of his laughter could kindle this gentle warmth within her, she thought as they walked toward the truck. To make someone laugh was a gift, but she felt as if Mark had just given her something instead.

  Elaine had set a picnic cooler on a blanket laid out in the shade of the trees. Marla and Benjamin were jumping all over Rob and Conrad by the time Mark and Sheryl arrived.

  “I’m going to throw you in the creek if you don’t stop it, Bunny,” Rob laughed, throwing Benjamin up in the air.

  “He’s not Bunny, he’s Benjamin,” Marla said indignantly, giving Rob’s shoulder a push.

  “Marla, don’t be rude,” Mark warned, his voice firm but quiet.

  “Yeah, Marla.” Conrad stuck his tongue at her but stopped when he caught Mark’s admonishing look.

  “You’re going to get kids just like you, you know,” Mark warned them.

  “His poor wife.” Elaine laughed, setting out plates and sandwiches. “She certainly would not have deserved that.”

  “Have you heard from Elise?” Mark asked as he took the plate Elaine had filled for him.

  “Nate broke some bone in his lower leg, I can’t remember which, and bruised some ribs. Elise was waiting for the plaster to dry, and then they were going to head back.”

  “Poor guy.” Mark sighed. “I imagine he’ll be out of commission for a few days.”

  “The cast has to stay on for about six weeks.” Elaine smiled up at Sheryl. “I didn’t even realize you didn’t come back until I picked Benjamin up from his nap. Were you here all morning?”

  “I stayed to help when I brought the tractor.”

  “Good for you. I sure couldn’t do this work. Too hot and dusty.”

  “That’s why you have your nice cushy job at the Sweet Creek Sentinel,” Mark said.

  “Complete with AC.” Elaine gave Sheryl a plate with a sandwich and some vegetables on it.

  “And why aren’t you there now keeping us abreast of all the Sweet Creek Happenings?” Mark asked.

  “Took the day off. I put Nadine and Lainey in charge. I’ve been running ragged the past few days, trying to get things ready for Clint.”

  “Does Dory Strepchuk still run the show?” Sheryl asked remembering a portly gentleman who always wore a fedora.

  “He does, though lately he’s been doing most of his quote work,” Elaine crooked her forefingers of each hand, “at the Riverside Cafe, having coffee with Anton and Carlos. He’s in danger of becoming as much of a regular as they are. I guess that’s why his nephew is coming to take over.”

  “Who owns the Cafe now?” Sheryl asked. “I remember hanging out there with Nadine and Lainie.” And getting into deep trouble with Ed over it.

  “Kelsey Swain. She took it over from her parents.”

  Sheryl felt a twinge of melancholy. She knew time didn’t stand still in her old town but it seemed strange to be faced with the changes that happened while she was gone.

  “Sit by me Auntie Sheryl,” Marla dropped down beside Mark and patted the empty spot beside her.

  With a shrug, she complied, stepping over Mark’s long legs and took the sandwich Elaine offered her. As she sat down she cast a sidelong glance at Mark who winked back at her as he took a bite out of his sandwich. He added a smile but she couldn’t return it. He confused her and she knew spending time with him would cause problems for her so she looked away.

  “How’s the tractor running, guys?” he asked Conrad.

  With those prosaic words the spell broke, and Sheryl felt as if something precious had slipped away from her. “Okay,” Conrad mumbled around a mouthful of food. “But I’m going to need some more twine and a couple of extra sheer pins. We busted three so far.”

  “That’s three more than us.” Mark said, turning his head to grin at Sheryl.

  “What?” Rob sputtered. “How did you pull that off?”

  “Skillful driving and close attention to details.”

  “I would say it had more to do with light swaths,” Sheryl said easily.

  “And some skill.” Mark reached past Marla and gently wiped a trickle of sweat from Sheryl’s temple. “How are you feeling now?”

  Sheryl’s hand halted midway, frozen at his touch. Her heart stopped, did a slow flip and raced on. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “You looked flushed before I gave you my hat. I thought you might have a headache.”

  “No, I’m fine.” Sheryl swallowed, still flustered at the casual touch of his callused fingertip on her temple. “Do you want your hat back?”

  “No. With your fair skin and hair, you’ll burn to a crisp without that hat.”

  “Is Sheryl going to help you this afternoon, too?” Elaine asked Mark as she fed Benjamin.

  Mark turned his head slightly, his gray eyes holding Sheryl’s. “That’s entirely up to her.”

  He did it again, she thought. Either he was bound and determined to make his point about chivalry with each thing he did and said or it came naturally to him.

  “I’ll stay. I like to finish what I start.”

  She was supposed to have visited Ed this afternoon. That would just have to be put off until tonight. She’d much rather be outside, working, regardless of how dusty, hot and tiring it may be.

  Mark smiled, a lazy movement of his well-shaped mouth, and Sheryl’s heart skipped again.

  “So, Sheryl, how long has it been since you were in the valley?” Elaine asked conversationally.

  “I left here about eight years ago.” Sheryl replied, glad of the diversion.

  “And you worked in Edmonton?”

  Sheryl turned Mark’s hat over in her hands, her elbows resting on her knees. “Yes,” she said finally. “I worked a number of different jobs but my last one was in a bar.”

  “Really,” Rob lifted his head from his supine position. “Ed must have had asphyxiation when he found out. I just can’t feature Ed Krickson’s daughter working in a bar.”

  “Stepdaughter,” Sheryl corrected, unable to keep the harsh tone out of her voice.

  “How does that work?”

  “Sheryl’s mother was married before,” Mark interjected.

  “Oh, right. I remember my mom and dad talking about his stepdaughter. I didn’t know that was you, Sheryl.” Rob looked as if he wanted to say more.

  “We’d better get back to work.” Mark stood up, signaling the end of the conversation. Elaine looked disappointed, and Sheryl felt faintly relieved. It didn’t seem to matter what the topic was, it always came back to things she didn’t want to talk about.

  Everyone got up at once. Mark explained to Rob and Conrad what he wanted them to do, and Sheryl helped Elaine clean up.

  Benjamin leaned on the cooler, rooting around in the food. Sheryl laid the dirty plates inside and, giving in to an impulse, picked him up. He w
as so soft and rounded and appealing. She inhaled the sun-warmed smell of him and felt a melting inside of her.

  “You’re such a cutie, you know,” she murmured in his ear. He pulled away, his soft blue eyes fixed intently on her face. One chubby hand reached out and grabbed a fistful of hair and he gurgled his pleasure.

  Mark was finished with the boys and he sauntered over, Marla’s hand in his. He stopped beside Sheryl and stroked Benjamin’s cheek, his finger dark against the baby’s fair skin.

  “Hey, buddy, how’re the teeth coming?” As if in answer, Ben grabbed Mark’s finger with his free hand and tried to stick it in his mouth. “I don’t think so,” Mark warned pulling his hand away. “That’s a yucky finger, full of grease and dust.”

  He wasn’t touching her. In fact he stood almost a foot away, yet Sheryl was completely aware of him, the warmth that emanated from him, the faint smell of sweat overlaid with the dusty scent of hay. Unconsciously she took a step away, but Benjamin still held Mark’s finger in one hand and her hair in another.

  “Here,” Mark pulled his finger away from Benjamin and, reaching around, disentangled her hair from the little boy’s sticky hand.

  Mark’s fingers feathered her cheek, sending an unexpected shiver skittering down her back. She tried to keep her head down, but it was as if an unseen force drew her chin up, pulling her eyes toward his.

  All the world seemed to drop away as she felt herself melting into soft gray eyes fringed with thick dark lashes. His eyelids drooped, and he came closer, closer.

  “C’mon, Uncle Mark, you have to get back to work.”

  Marla’s shrill voice broke the spell his nearness had woven around her, and Sheryl blinked, stepping away.

  Benjamin leaned back in her arms, reaching out to Elaine, and Sheryl relinquished her hold on the baby, trying to still the pounding of her heart.

  She swung around and walked back to the tractor, her steps brisk, her manner determined. She didn’t know what was wrong with her, but somehow Mark was getting under her guard.

  Too dangerous, she warned herself as she swung up the steps.

  Chapter 5

  Sheryl rolled her head to take the tightness out of her neck. A delicious weariness engulfed her. The day had been good, satisfying.

  Her plans to visit Ed had, of necessity, been altered. Not that it mattered. It was a relief not to have to face any more of Ed’s hesitant declarations of love.

  It was only imminent death that had brought them out, she thought, rubbing her neck. But even as she formulated the doubt, another part of her mind, the one that cried out for family and place, longed to have those words repeated for her to hold to herself.

  She shook her head, as if to discard the confusion.

  As she pulled her tired shoulders up to ease the persistent ache in them, she glanced across the truck at Mark. His dusty face was shadowed along his lean jawline, and his hair was still held down by the red bandana he had rolled up and tied around his head that morning.

  He looked almost like a pirate in the gathering dusk. Except pirates didn’t have such long dark eyelashes, nor did pirates let their mothers stroke their hair, like Lenore had done yesterday. She envied him both his family and the absolute sense of rightness that surrounded his work. He was so obviously a part of this land that it was a stretch to imagine him making his living in the city.

  Just then he looked over at her, his dark eyes gleaming in the dusk. His face was expressionless, his eyes piercing, and she looked away, berating herself for entertaining too many thoughts of him.

  One more visit with Ed, and she was out of here, she promised herself.

  “Looks like Nate is home,” Mark said as they pulled into the driveway. He came to a stop and slowly pushed the gearshift into reverse. He turned to Sheryl, “Are you going to come in for something to eat—”

  His question was cut off by the piercing honk of a horn as headlights swept behind them and shut off.

  Sheryl turned, opening her door. She could see Lenore and Dale getting out of a small car. Dale bent over to take a box out of the back seat, and Lenore walked up to Sheryl her hands outstretched in greeting. “Sheryl, hello,” she said with a smile. She caught Sheryl’s hands before she had a chance to pull away.

  “Goodness gracious, girl, what have you been doing today?” Lenore turned Sheryl’s hands over and held them up to the light spilling from the verandah onto the vehicles. “You’ve got blisters on your palms.” She looked over at Mark, who leaned against his truck, chatting with his father. “Mark, how did Sheryl get these blisters on her hands?” Mark glanced over his shoulder at his mother, one eyebrow quirked at her demanding tone. “She was driving Nate’s old Massey. Nate, you will remember, broke his leg and couldn’t drive.”

  “Don’t be flippant. Were you baling today?”

  “On the fields below my house.”

  Lenore turned back to Sheryl, her face indignant. “It got up to eighty-five degrees today,” Lenore fumed.

  “Don’t tell me you were working in this heat, driving a tractor without a cab on it?”

  “I had a hat on,” Sheryl replied, bemused at Lenore’s anger. What did it matter to Lenore what she did?

  Still holding on to Sheryl, Lenore dragged her around the front of the truck, holding out the palms of her hands for Mark’s inspection.

  “Look at that, Mark. I can’t believe you made her help you with such a horrible job. I know you were in a bind, but I’m sure you could have found someone in town. Or those two hands of yours could have helped.”

  Sheryl couldn’t help but smile at the sight of this five-foot-nothing of a woman glaring up at her son who towered above her.

  “They were driving the other tractor and baler,” Mark said, looking to his father for support.

  “Why don’t we do what we came here for, and that’s see how Nate is doing and help Elise with supper?” Dale asked, pulling his wife toward him and winking at Mark.

  “Are you two coming?” Lenore asked, looking back at them as her husband ushered her up the stairs to the verandah.

  Sheryl opened her mouth to protest.

  “I know what you’re going to say,” Mark said, touching her shoulder lightly. “But please don’t start with that, Sheryl. Come on in, wash up and have something to eat, or my mother’s going to think I’m a total boor.”

  Sheryl’s stomach rumbled, and as she glanced at the brightly lit house a burst of laughter came from within. It was more appealing than her cabin with its meagre propane lantern light.

  “As long as Elise doesn’t mind dusty blue jeans on her chairs.”

  “She won’t care. It’s happened before.”

  The kitchen table was already set. Lenore was unpacking a pot of soup from the box Dale brought in, and Elaine was grilling cheese sandwiches. The smells made Sheryl’s stomach clench with hunger.

  “Did you want to give the children some of this soup, as well, Elaine?” Lenore asked as she put the pot on the stove.

  “Probably a good idea.”

  Lenore looked up as Sheryl and Mark came into the room. “Goodness, you two are even dirtier in the light. Mark you use the sink in the porch, Sheryl you can wash up in the one down the hall...” Lenore waved a spoon in the direction of the bathroom.

  “I think Sheryl remembers where it is, Mom,” Mark reprimanded his mother his tone light.

  Lenore frowned at him, then as comprehension dawned, she laughed. “I forgot. You probably know this house better than I do, Sheryl.”

  “I used to. It looks so different now.” She took a moment to appreciate the changes that Elise had wrought in what was once a dark and run-down room.

  The cupboards had been covered with a fresh coat of white paint and trimmed with blue porcelain handles. The dusty-blue countertop was new as were the flowered tiles against the wall. The walls were painted in a hue that matched the countertop and in one corner of the room white chairs with blue cushions were pushed up against a table topped with a blue-an
d-white-checked cloth.

  “I like this kitchen,” she said, smiling at Elise, who stood watching her, almost anxiously. “You’ve made it look fresh and inviting.”

  “Thank you. It was a bit of a battle to convince Ed and Nate that it needed a woman’s touch, but once I started, they came around.”

  Sheryl smiled wryly, wondering why her mother had never dared to stand up to Ed. Maybe she had too much to lose, she thought as she walked down the hall to the bathroom, another room transformed from dull to bright.

  As she washed her hands she caught her reflection in the mirror and grimaced. Rivulets of sweat had dried, leaving dark tracks on her dusty skin. Her eyes were rimmed with brown, her hair dull. Not much to look at now, not much to look at then, she thought, remembering the taunts of childhood.

  She soaped down her hands and rinsed off her face.

  As the brown water swirled down the drain she remembered a rebellious young girl who had refused to wear the skirts and dresses that Ed had insisted were proper for a young lady.

  As he had become more determined to bend and shape her and she had become even more determined to stay who she was, the battle had escalated. Push and shove, back and forth, neither yielding.

  She looked in the mirror again and picked up a brush, wondering what would have happened if her mom had stood up for her? Or what would have happened if Sheryl had not resented Ed his place in her mother’s life.

  Sheryl sighed as she ran a brush through her long hair. It was all past, impossible to fix or relive. She rebraided her hair, noting with dismay the flecks of hay that dotted the immaculate floor.

  She stepped out of the bathroom to get a broom, almost bumping into Nate.

  “Hi,” she stammered. “How are you feeling?”

  “I ache all over,” he mumbled, pulling one crutch closer to let her pass.

  He closed his eyes, his face pale. “I didn’t say it before, but thanks for what you did.”

  “You’re welcome.” She bit her lip, feeling the tension between them. “Do you need any help now?”

  “No. I’ll manage on my own.”

  Sheryl hesitated a moment. He still didn’t move, so she stepped carefully past him and walked down the hallway to the kitchen.